The Pathologist and the Detective
by scribblingnellie
Summary: Sequel to Dinner at 221B. It's been a while since Sherlock set them up on a dinner date. Greg and Molly are back and forth as they work out where they are with each other. There are dates, non-dates and a whole lot of flirting as they negotiate their tentative relationship around their busy lives. Romance, friendship, happiness and a little angst thrown in. M rating to be safe!
1. Coffee at Scotland Yard

**First chapter in a sequel to Dinner at 221B. With Molly and Greg and a bit of back and forth as they work out where they are with each other. Work, dates and more. Enjoy!**

* * *

_Need the Smithfield bodies case report asap for press conference. Can you bring them? G_

His text had been a bit hurried, though perfectly timed as she'd just finished up her bodies for the morning. And it was quickly followed by another one.

_PS. I'll send a car for you_.

It felt a bit strange, pulling up in front of Scotland Yard in a police car. She'd only ever been there once before to deliver urgent case reports. It was usually Greg that came to her. And now here she was, stood in the reception waiting as they called up to him, with people coming and going, uniformed and plain clothes, none of them paying her any attention.

'Molly!'

That voice. It was doing something to her head, and her knees. Its rough edge and the genuine happiness in it made Molly smile. She couldn't help it.

'Greg, hi! Reports for you. Hope I'm in time.'

As Molly handed the three files to him his hand brushed against hers, his fingers lingering. Greg stepped closer, head bending down towards hers.

'Perfect timing. Press conference in two hours. Enough time to go through these.'

'Good. Well, I'd better be getting back. I…'

Molly hesitated. Would he ask to her to go through them, as they did together at the morgue, lingering over a cup of tea?

'I think I'm gonna need some help with these. Would you mind? I mean, that is, if you're not needed back at Barts?'

No, she wasn't. Molly made sure before getting into the police car that her colleagues knew she'd have to be a while at Scotland Yard, important case and all, needed to go through the details, make sure the investigating team understood it properly.

'Is it okay?'

'Sure' Greg smiled, reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder, 'I'll sign you in. It always makes much more sense when you explain it to me, especially in those short, simple sentences.'

The young man behind the reception desk grinned as the Inspector quickly scribbled in the visitor book, scooping up the plastic clip-on badge.

'Oh, I don't know,' said Molly, 'you do all right, for an older man.'

Winking at him, she felt him move closer still, proffering the badge. With only a few inches between them, she could see his stubble, feel his breath on her cheek. She was definitely beginning to like being so close to him, so aware of him.

'May I?' Greg held the badge out.

Molly nodded. He attached the clip to the edge of her cardigan, avoiding touching her breast, just like a gentleman.

As he lowered his head, bringing his mouth closer to her ear, Molly breathed him in – soap, a slight hint of aftershave.

'I love that colour on you.'

She could feel that annoying blush starting to form on her cheeks. It'd been a while since a man had made her blush so often. Tom never had. Sherlock, well he'd made her stutter and blush like crazy in the beginning.

'Thank you.' Molly ducked her head, catching a glimpse of the young man behind the desk, still grinning like a loon as her and Greg flirted.

'You wore yellow to the wedding. And looked beautiful in it.'

'And you looked very dashing in that blue suit.'

Molly was getting the hang of flirting; it felt easier with Greg. Did that mean something? Not that she needed to read something into everything that happened. But flirting with him just seemed to come naturally for her. Something about Greg, and how relaxed he was around her, made her feel comfortable. And brave enough to flirt back, which was rather fun.

'Thank you,' he said. Still with his eyes on her, he gestured to the lift, 'After you, Miss Hooper.'

They had the lift to themselves. Leaning back against the smooth metal, Molly stood comfortably beside him, their sides close but not touching. Greg twiddled a pen in his right hand, the files tucked under his left arm. She sneaked a glance at him; he was looking at her.

'It's been so hectic here, Molly, ' he said, 'and all the time I'm thinking - when do I get to see that lovely young woman again?'

'And which lovely young woman would this be?'

Molly held her head up, giving him an inquisitive look. Watching the smile play across his lips, his handsome eyes lighting up, she felt that tug at the corner of her heart. The same one she'd felt over dinner and as they'd danced so close together at 221B.

Keep it calm, she told herself, easy steps here.

Though not wanting to rush into a new relationship, being around Greg was nice. How could it not be, when he was such a nice, charming man.

'Ah well, you see, she's this lovely, quiet, intelligent young woman. Too young for me some would say, but she makes me happy. Quite a determined woman, puts up with no crap you know, gives as good as she gets. Such a sexy combination really.'

Sexy? Did he just describe her as sexy? The serious look Greg tried to keep on his face wasn't holding too well; his eyes gave him away.

'Hmm, well, she sounds almost too good to be true,' said Molly.

Sexy? Did he mean it? He inched a little closer, bringing the pen up to his lips.

'It is good to see you. As much as I enjoy our text message conversations, it's much nicer in person…'

'10th floor.'

Interrupted by the generic, bored voice of the lift, Greg straightened himself up. 'Here we are.'

Leaving the lift, turning right, Molly followed him along a short corridor. Holding the glass door open for her, he smiled as she passed in front of him and into the busy room, the noise of a team at work greeting her. Following him to his office, she glanced across the many desks. Spotting Sergeant Donovan , who lifted her head to inspect the new arrival, Molly nodded to her. They'd seen each other a few times at the morgue, but never really spoke.

Greg held open the door of his office, as Molly caught him up, reaching for the door handle.

'Thanks.'

'Coffee?' he asked, 'I could do with one. '

'Oh, yes please.'

'Make yourself comfy. Won't be long.'

Molly turned to watch him stride across the room. A few eyes wandered her way, so she ducked into the office, letting the door swing close behind her. It was a standard square box of an office. Something about it gave out a sense of Greg – desk a little skew-wiff, papers piled precariously in the trays, a used coffee mug (Metropolitan Police blue) and an opened box of nicotine patches. Smiling, she touched her fingers to the box. Glancing over his desk and the small bookcase and filing cabinet, she noticed what was missing. Photo frames.

'I'm trying again.'

Startled, Molly pulled her hand back; she hadn't heard him open the door, where he was now standing, two mugs of steaming coffee in his hands.

'The patches.' He nodded over at his desk as he stepped into his office, closing the door behind him with his foot. 'I'm having another go.'

'I'm glad.' Molly took one of the mugs from him, feeling his fingers again reach out to touch hers lightly.

'No doubt you can tell me all about diseased lungs and the like.'

'I could,' she said, moving to the chair he pulled out for her, 'but I wouldn't.'

'That's what I like about you; you'll make me feel guilty with a just a look.'

'Oh, I really am sorry about that.'

Speaking into her coffee, she took a careful sip, trying to hide her mortification. She hadn't meant to look at him so harshly when he'd lit up outside at the wedding.

'Don't be.' Greg leaned against the front edge of his desk, right beside her. 'I know it'll kill me. And I now have a good reason to give it up, to not let it kill me.'

Molly looked up quickly. Had he just said that?

'Greg…'

'Molly, I've no expectations.' His voice turned serious. 'I want to spend time with you. I like you. Being around you makes me happy. Simple as that.'

Hands tight around her mug, she kept hold of his eyes with hers. 'And being happy suits you.'

'Then we shall have to spend more time hanging around each other.'

'I wouldn't say no to that.' And as she said it, without hesitation, Molly knew she meant it. There was something there – friendship, yes, maybe more – and she liked it. She liked the feeling of just being there with him.

'Good to know.'

The quiet settled over them, with only the indistinct hum of his team at work, phones ringing, photocopier churning out paper, breaking the silence. Greg stayed beside her, the files forgotten on his desk where he'd dropped them.

Molly sneaked another look at him from over her coffee. He was still looking at her. Her stomach gave a little flip as she took him in – corners of his mouth curving into that smile, his tie coming loose at its knot, pen still held in his right hand.

'Anyone would think you'd asked me here just to watch me.'

'Well, it wouldn't be completely untrue. Sorry, I mean..' He stumbled over his words a little, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

'But there is a press conference,' Molly said, smiling at him.

'Yes, there is. So I do have a legitimate professional reason for dragging you across London.'

Pushing himself off the desk, he gathered up the files, transferring the pen to behind his ear. Sliding into his chair across the desk from her, Greg opened the top file, and studied it with a puzzled look. It was one of his usual looks he gave her reports; years in the job and there was still medical stuff that baffled him.

'Would you like me to explain any of it?'

'You make it sound so much better.' Greg turned the file around, placing it between them on the desk. 'Though that could just be your lovely voice.'

'Greg.' Molly gave him her stern look. 'You have a press conference in two hours. Be serious.'

'Sorry.' Though his grin told her he wasn't, and she couldn't stop herself from smiling back at him.


	2. Pints in Westminster

** It's Greg and Molly's second official date, if you're counting dinner at 221B as their first! and Greg's a little nervous.**

* * *

Did his breath smell? He was sure he had some Polos somewhere, possibly, in his desk drawer? Greg rummaged among the pens and notebooks, paperclips and cigarette lighters. No Polos. He knew he'd had them the other week; he'd popped a couple when Molly came by with the case reports. They had to be there.

'Bloody hell!'

Slamming the drawer shut in frustration, Greg leapt out of his chair. Not on or in his desk and he'd already checked his jacket and coat pockets. Filing cabinet?

'You alright?'

'Donovan. Polos?' he asked without looking up from his search.

'No idea. So who is she?'

'Huh?'

He stopped, finally noticing his DS in the doorway. Sally was grinning widely; she smiled a lot more these days. He had thought it may have been because she'd dumped Anderson. Though it could be job satisfaction; who was he to say her happiness was anything to do with a man?

'The woman you're desperate to find your Polos for because you don't want her smelling your coffee breath.'

Greg snorted. 'Charming.'

'It comes to us all, boss. Who is she?'

'If I said none of your business, would you stop asking me?'

'Nope.' She turned on her heel. 'Oh, have you tried your trouser pockets? That's usually where you kept your cigarettes.' And then she pulled the door closed behind her.

Ah! Brilliant DS Sally Donovan. Greg stuck his hand into his left trouser pocket, which had been where he'd kept his cigarette packet, and there they were. Pulling out the roll of mints, he peeled two off and popped them into his mouth.

So, he'd checked his hair, his tie, his zipper, his shoelaces and now he'd found his mints. That was everything ,wasn't it? Reaching for his jacket slung over his chair, shrugging himself into it, he patted the pockets for his wallet and keys. Turning to grab his coat from the stand by his desk, he heard his mobile buzz, rattling against the desk top.

Her?

Grabbing it, he saw her name across the lit up screen, and smiled.

_Hi. I'm nearly there. See you in 10 minutes? M_

Mobile on one hand, coat in the other, Greg stepped out of his office, striding across the room towards the corridor. This was it. Their second proper date. Dinner at Sherlock's had counted as a date, even if neither of them had known it would be when they'd arrived. But tonight, finally, they were both free and Greg had suggested meeting up. And yes, he did count going to the pub as a date.

'Have fun, boss!' Sally called out.

A few eyes followed him across the room; it was unusual for their DI to leave on time at the end of the shift let alone leave early. But then, he'd never had the excuse of meeting a gorgeous pathologist in the pub for a drink before. Which was none of their business.

_Just leaving now. See you there. G_

* * *

The Bear and Bell. He'd had a few post-work pints there before. Not his usual kind of pub with its music/football free atmosphere, but perfect for what he wanted – time spent with Molly Hooper, drinking and talking and staring into her beautiful eyes.

As he pulled open the door, the steady chatter and laughter greeted him. The main room was dark panelled, but the lights reflected off the glass of the bar and the booths, adding a nice romantic feel. He looked over the heads, scanning the room for her. Not at the bar, not at a table. Weaving his way through the bodies, he checked round the corner of the bar, stepping down into the quieter, secluded part of the medieval-built pub.

His heart stopped. There she was, tucked into a small booth, two drinks on the table in front of her. Her eyes were looking all around but she hadn't spotted him yet. Greg took a moment to just look at her. Tonight, she was wearing the red shirt he loved, the one that skimmed but left something to the imagination. And she'd left her hair loose, tumbling over her shoulders. He remembered the feel of it against him as they'd danced.

Her eyes found him. She smiled; Greg held his breath. He was in love with her. Beautiful, intelligent and tough, all the qualities that he found he couldn't resist. Making his way over to the booth, hidden from view of the rest of the pub, he grinned at her.

'Pints to start?'

'Thought I'd get them in. I'm in need of one.' Pushing his glass across to him as he slid into the padded seat opposite her. 'Pint of best, if that's ok. I remember you said you'd been here before.'

'Perfect. You're a star, Molly.' Greg raised his glass, Molly brought hers up to meet his. 'Cheers.'

'Cheers.' As she took a sip, her eyes watched him over the top of her glass. 'It's lovely to see you.'

And his heart stopped again.

* * *

'You're getting better at small talk.'

Greg tilted his head at her, Molly grinned. She was so pretty when she smiled. Taking another sip of their third round of drinks – him, half pint of best, her, a lemon and lime - he shook his head.

'You mean, I can talk about boring topics like the weather and work and what I'm doing at the weekend like an expert now.'

'Yep.' She kept smiling. 'So, how was your day?'

'Busy. And two last minute suspicious deaths, bodies on way to your morgue as I was leaving.'

'Ah, so you'll be coming by tomorrow morning to pick up the report from Joe then?'

'Yep. I'm sure I could stop by for tea.'

'Lovely.'

'So, how about you? Work, I mean.'

Molly nodded, draining the last of her drink. 'Four bodies this morning, natural causes, followed by paperwork and then DI Dimmock dropped by for the Viaduct body reports.'

Smiling, Greg slipped a hand across the table, lightly tapping her fingers. 'I think he might be in over his head on that one. Sherlock won't help him with it.' He let his fingers cover hers slightly, trying not to make it too obvious.

'Why not?' Molly didn't draw her hand back. Moving a finger from under his, she let it rest on top.

'I think he said it was because Dimmock wouldn't let him in on the Silver Vaults robbery case.' Greg stroked his thumb along hers, feeling the warmth of her skin against his.

'So, back to his old self then.'

'Yep. Petulant.'

And then Molly had their fingers entwined, lifting her eyes to his. Greg felt like it was only the two of them, tucked into the cosy booth at the back, away from all the noise and bustle of the pub on a Thursday night. Their hands locked together, the feel of her fingers against his and everything else just faded into the background. If he could stay like this, he'd have been quite happy.

'I should get going,' Molly said, 'early start tomorrow.' But she didn't move her hand. 'You will stop by for tea? When you collect the reports.'

The hesitation in her voice caught him by surprise. Was she worried that he wouldn't? Did she want to see him that much? Pulling her hand up to his lips, Greg placed a gentle kiss on her fingers. For a moment her fingers brushed against his cheek and then she let go of his hand, pulling hers back into her lap.

'Molly.. I'm sorry.' Greg could see she was uncomfortable. 'I shouldn't have done that.'

'No, no..' Pushing her hair back, tucking it behind her ears. '.. I mean, I liked it. It was nice. I just... the fact that I liked it. Is that a bad thing?' The blush start at the corner of her cheeks. Looking away, Molly busied herself with with gathering together her coat and bag.

'A bad thing?'

'Oh, that sounds wrong. No, what I meant was.. with Tom and breaking it off with him, I just.. I shouldn't have liked it as much as I did, you kissing my hand, I mean.'

'Molly.' Greg reached across the table and rested his hand on her arm. His heart ached to see her confused, anxious. Her eyes flicked down, and then back to him. 'It's not a bad thing. If something makes you happy then it definitely isn't.'

'No, no. I know.'

She withdrew her arm, picking up her coat. Sliding out of the booth, she struggled her right arm into the sleeve. Sliding out to stand beside her, Greg took the shoulder of her coat and held it for her as she found the other armhole. Gently pulling her hair from under it, he let it fall across the collar, slipping over his fingers.

'Thanks.' Molly turned, picking up her bag.

'You're welcome.' Greg smiled. The blush still clung to her cheeks. 'Let's find you a cab.'

With a gentle hand on her back, they weaved their way back through the crowd to the the door. Holding it open for her, they stepped out into the cool night air.

'Oh, that's wonderful,' said Molly, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. 'Fresh air!'

'Don't tell me you're not a pub person.'

'Oh, I am Greg, I am. But it's just that moment, you know, you go from being inside to outside and then you breathe it in and it feels so good! Anyway, sorry.. yes, cabs.' Molly wrapped her coat closer around her. 'Best be getting back. Me eastbound, you northwards.'

Looking left then right, Greg spotted a black cab, sign illuminated, heading towards them on their side of the road. Hailing the driver, he watched as it pulled up in front of them, leaning down to the window as it came to a stop.

'Spitalfields, please. Cheers.' Opening the door, Greg turned back to Molly. She stood beside him, her eyes suddenly turning serious.

And as she moved to step into the cab, she reached her hand up to his neck, gently pulling him towards her. In those few seconds everything felt like it was playing out in slow motion. Her warm hand on his neck, her gorgeous eyes holding his and her lips pressing a kiss to his cheek. She lingered against him, and then let go.

'Thank you,' she whispered and climbed into the cab. Settling back against the seat, she kept hold of his eyes, turning her head as the cab pulled away.

Greg watched it go, turning the corner and disappearing. That kiss. She'd kissed him on the cheek as they'd danced, but that. What did it mean? Was there just a little hope for him in that kiss?


	3. Tea at Barts

**Thanks for your follows and favourites and reviews - it's really encouraging! This chapter originally started out being from Molly's POV but I changed it to Greg's POV which fitted quite nicely in. There's flirting and there's angst - sorry about that! (Discussion of drug use)  
**

* * *

Tucking the hands gently into the body bag, carefully zipping from their feet towards their head, Molly paused. Greg watched her, mesmerised. She gave the young man on her examination table one last smile before bringing the zip up over their head.

'Greg?'

'Sorry.' He shook his head. Moving towards her, hands in his coat pockets, he hesitated.

'What's wrong?'

'He's so young.' Eyes fixed on the closed up body bag. 'I mean, I know I've seen a lot of disturbing, nasty things. There's a part of me that's hardened to it.'

'But that other part of you,' Molly said, coming round to him on the other side of the table, 'that other part can't help but be affected by it.' Taking his hand, she entwined her fingers through his.

Greg looked at her, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, leaving his hand resting on her cheek. He couldn't help himself. Every time he saw her - here at Barts, at Sherlock's, at John and Mary's - he wanted to touch her, to feel that she really was there with him. And a touch was all he'd allow himself.

'Tea?' Molly broke their silence.

Taking his hand from her cheek, he nodded. 'Yes, please. Tea'd be good.'

* * *

Absently turning the mug around on the table top, Greg let his eyes follow Molly. A comfortable silence had fallen between them as she carried on analysing the samples from the young man's autopsy, jotting down notes as she went. He found it calming to watch her work, quietly moving about the lab, collecting papers and samples and equipment.

Greg let his thoughts slip back to the lift up to the morgue and how they'd had to squeeze in and Molly leaning against him, giving him goose bumps. Sometimes, like then, he just wanted to tell her, to kiss her and tell her he was in love with her. But he didn't. And he knew he couldn't because he really didn't want to stuff this up.

'Are you ok?' Her voice, soft and concerned, broke through his thoughts.

'Hmm?… sorry. Miles away there.'

Pushing the mug firmly aside, Greg shook out his shoulders, easing the ache that had started to set in. He was definitely getting older; some days he felt all of his fifty years. With a test tube in one hand, protective glasses in the other, Molly watched him with a smile playing across her lips.

'I'm nearly done, promise.' she said, 'I know it's a bit boring for you.'

The one thing that Molly Hooper was not to him, was boring. Even the way she pottered about the lab, cleaning equipment, completing paperwork or tidying up, fascinated him. Was that love for you?

'No, it isn't,' Greg said, 'Watching you is never boring.. and yes that does sound slightly stalker-ish, I know. Sorry.'

Molly let out a gentle laugh, putting the glasses back on. 'Why you'd want to watch me working...'

'Oh, that's easy. Because you're fascinating and dedicated and beautiful... oh, sorry. That just sort of, came out.'

She ducked her head back down to the sample in the test tube, but not before Greg caught a glimpse of blush cross her cheeks. 'That's ok. It's ..nice,' she said to the table.

'Good. I've got more where that came from.' And he winked at her as she lifted her eyes to meet his, her cheeks blushing rather gorgeously.

* * *

'There, last one all done.'

As Molly bagged, sealed and signed the tissue sample, placing it into the cold storage, Greg straightened himself up on the chair. Though his backside had gone numb and his neck a bit cricked, he'd wanted to stay until she had finished. Molly'd been happy for him to stay, especially as he kept their mugs of tea topped up while she methodically made her way through all the samples and tests.

Pulling off the latex gloves with a snap, she bundled them up in her hands, her face concerned.

'Drugs?' asked Greg.

She nodded, shuffling the papers together into the folder. 'Traces of cocaine, a large quantity of heroin and a lot of alcohol.'

'Would he have been conscious when the ceiling hit him?'

Shaking her head, she closed the folder, resting her hand on top. 'No, I don't think he was. There was a large loss of blood from the wounds on the back of his head; he bled to death.' Molly moved towards him. 'Greg, I know this reminds you of it, but you know Sherlock's promised he won't touch them again. He...'

'I know.' He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, running his hands over his face. 'It's just.. seeing him, that boy, lying there and the first thing that comes into my head... jesus, I'll never lose that image... Sherlock high and terrified, begging me not to call his brother or his parents.'

'And you stayed with him. You did what he asked... though you did call Mycroft in the end.'

Greg gave her a questioning look. How did she know?

'Sherlock told me. He knew you had, and I'm sure deep down he was grateful .'

'Was he? He could be a right bastard sometimes back then.'

'I'm glad you did it. He's changed since we first knew him. You helped him through that. He's here now because of what you did.'

'Probably,' said Greg, a small harsh laugh escaping from him. 'Sorry, Molly. Just feeling so shattered.'

Trying to keep his eyes open was becoming hard work, exhaustion was creeping in. It'd been a long day; waiting at the morgue had taken him a couple of hours past the end of his shift. Lowering his head into his hands, closing his eyes, he contemplated just crashing on the sofa as soon as he could get himself home, not even bothering with dinner.

'Greg?'

'Sorry.' He lifted his head back up, and found Molly standing right in front of him. 'Hey there.'

And then her hand was on his cheek, her eyes worried. Her touch was warm against his skin. Breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes again, just feeling her fingers resting on his face. His heart beat that little bit faster and the memory of her body against his as they danced came straight back into his head. Somehow he had to get that under control. He couldn't keep fantasising about Molly, it wasn't right, he couldn't expect anything from her. But when she touched him, Greg couldn't stop himself thinking about holding her, kissing her. And sleeping with her, if he was completely honest.

Along his cheek, up his temple, her fingers brushed over his skin. Opening his eyes, his heart stopped when he looked straight into hers. The lab blurred into the background, all he could see was Molly - her beautiful eyes concerned and worried, strands of long hair falling loose from her ponytail, her soft breathing, the smell of soap from her well scrubbed hand as she stroked his face. And in that simple action, Greg felt all the threads of his day unravel. A young man crushed under rubble, a distraught mother and angry father, the stink and darkness of the abandoned house; he felt them slipping from the tight knot he'd kept them in. They were turning into a mess in his mind, as they mixed with the memories of Sherlock and those early, horrible days.

'Molly...'

Greg felt the tears and he didn't try to stop them. Molly said nothing. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him; just like she'd done when Mycroft refused to let him see Sherlock's body. Tears fell against her shirt as he leaned his head on her chest, hearing her heartbeat. And despite being in the morgue, working on a case, he let his senses became filled with Molly. Her touch, her body against him, her breathing, her hair brushing his cheeks, a faint smell of vanilla, probably from when she'd showered that morning...

Stop it. Overwhelmed, Greg broke from her arms. He knew he had to leave, leave before he let his body take over from his mind.

'Sorry. I, um... Look, I'd better go.' As he stood up from the chair, grabbing his jacket off the back of it, he avoided her eyes. His body felt the loss of her touch, his heart hammered against his chest. 'I'll come round for the report tomorrow? If that's ok?'

'Um, yeah... sure. That's fine.' Molly sounded a little taken back.

Shrugging into his jacket, Greg couldn't stop himself looking back at her. And he felt his heart pull. Now, he'd promised himself he wouldn't do it yet, that he would let her chose the timing of it. But his every nerve ending was alert, his mind was a mess and his day, having gone from bad to crap, was ending with the woman he was in love with holding him. He knew he'd regret it, and maybe Molly wouldn't want to see him again but his heart took over from his brain. Leaning forward, he cupped her cheek in his hand and brought his lips down to hers. He kissed her, softly, feeling her lips linger ever so slightly on his, her hand touch his arm.

No. He pulled away. For a few long seconds they looked at each; Molly still and quiet, shock and surprise crossing her face.

'Molly, I'm sorry, I...'

He couldn't. Turning, Greg strode out of the lab, the door jolting in its frame as it swung back into place. Agitated, he fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. He'd ruined it; he knew it from the look in her eyes. He'd ruined it all for a brief selfish kiss, a kiss he'd been thinking about ever since that Christmas.

Bloody fool.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. Next chapter will be a Molly POV!**


	4. Comfy Chairs

***UPDATE 19/2 - I've done a large rewrite on the original chapter I'd uploaded yesterday. As I reread the chapter, it didn't feel right, especially Molly's thoughts and feelings. So I've worked on it today and am much happy with it now! ***

**There's kissing, food, comfy chairs and cushions. Thanks again for your follows, faves and reviews. Hope you enjoy this latest instalment!**

* * *

Greg had kissed her.

Molly wasn't sure how long she'd stood on the spot. The lab door was still, his footsteps had faded. He'd been there, kissing her and then he was gone. Why? Why did he stop? Touching her fingers to her lips, she stared at the door. The kiss had been gorgeous and wonderful; she'd felt her knees go wobbly and had reached out to hold him, to bring him closer. It felt right. Just like when she'd kissed him on the cheek, outside the pub. Everything about Greg felt right.

And he'd just kissed her. She'd wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and keep on kissing him. But he'd stopped, and she wished he hadn't. The feel of his lips on hers had sent her heart turning over and over. It came as a bit of a shock when he'd pulled away.

Why had he stopped? Molly wanted an answer. Grabbing her phone off the lab table, she tapped out the message and hit Send.

'_Greg? What happened? M'_

She waited. Staring down at her phone, Molly drummed her fingers against it. Wait, she told herself, wait. Just as she closed her eyes, deciding that she was probably too late, the phone buzzed in her hand.

'_I'm sorry. G'_

'_Why? M'_

Again, the pause as she waited for a reply.

'_I shouldn't have kissed you. G'_

No. Molly was having none of this_. 'Where are you? M'_

Reaching for her coat, she slung it over her arm and grabbed her bag with her free hand. If he was texting then he wasn't driving. Pulling and locking her office door behind her, she hurried across the lab.

'_In the car park. G'_

'_I'm on my way down. M'_

* * *

It wasn't hard to spot him; there were few cars about as most of the day staff had left. Her heart stopped when she saw him; leaning, slumped, against the side of his car, his hand over his eyes. Her first reaction was to run over to him and hug him, but Molly made herself walk slowly. As it slammed shut behind her, the echoing sound of the door made him look up; she caught her breath at how vulnerable he looked.

So there they were. They'd been kissing in the lab, he'd stopped, left, she'd gone off after him and...now what? She had no idea. Should she just go up and kiss him? Her stomach was tying itself in knots as she got closer. Before she could sort her jumbled thoughts, she was standing next to him; his brown eyes looking down at her as she tried to keep breathing. Molly took him all in – his tired face, rumpled shirt, his tie gone. Resisting the temptation to touch his chest where his top buttons had come undone, she smiled.

'Hey,' Greg said, a hesitant smile on his lips.

Molly wanted to place her fingers on that beautiful mouth of his. 'Hi.'

Being impulsive was one thing, facing the consequences was another. The silence sat between them, neither of them brave enough to start. Greg looked away, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck, he cleared his throat. She tried to keep her heart beating normally, but there was something rather sexy about his awkwardness.

'You ok?' she said, breaking their silence.

'Knackered. You?'

'Starving.'

'Can I buy you dinner?'

'How about I make you dinner.'

Greg tilted his head, his face confused. 'At yours?'

Molly nodded. 'You look exhausted.' She ran a hand over his forehead, trying to wipe away the worry lines. He took her hand, kissing her fingers and she felt her heart leap into her throat. 'There's... there's comfy chairs to crash in. I mean, if you want to... we can talk.'

'I'd like that.'

* * *

Feeling full and a little dozy, Molly stretched her legs out in front of her. Pushing her flats off at the heels, she tucked her legs under her and snuggled back into the old brown leather armchair. She felt the woollen rug under her head, soft against her neck. Greg, watching her, ate his last forkful of pasta, his eyes brighter.

'Molly, that was delicious. Thank you.'

She smiled, glad that with a belly full of food, he was looking happier and less exhausted. Almost as soon as they'd gotten into her flat, he'd crashed on the sofa; his head falling against the cushions pushed into the corner. Glancing over at him as she'd pottered about the kitchen, she'd seen his eyes open and close a few times, his head in his hand. When she'd brought the two full bowls of pasta out to the living room, she'd found him there on the sofa with his eyes closed, breathing softly, head against the cushions. She'd paused to look at him; it had seemed a shame to disturb him, especially when he looked so gorgeous asleep.

Leaning her head on her hand, her elbow on the arm of the chair, Molly smiled at the now wide awake man on her sofa. 'It's just some leftover homemade sauce.'

'You make your own pasta sauce? I'm impressed. Mine comes out of a jar.' He leaned into the back of the small battered dark green sofa, his eyes on her. 'Limited cooking skills, me, I'm afraid.'

'Your wife was the cook then...' and Molly realised too late that she'd said it. Mortified, she put her hands over her mouth. How could she be so stupid and insensitive? All the crap he'd been through with his divorce and she had to go and bring it up.

'Oh, Greg... I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said that.'

Shaking his head, he leaned forward. There was a flash of hurt, then it was gone as he ran a hand over his eyes.

'No, Molly. Don't be, it's ok.' He smiled, an exhausted but honest smile. 'It's over, and it's all in the past.'

'And now?'

'Now? Now, I like being around you.' And he caught her eyes, his face determined. 'Molly, what happened in the lab...'

'You kissed me and left. Why?'

'I know. I'm sorry. It's just... I shouldn't have.'

'You said. Why not?'

'I don't want to pressure you. I like you, you know that. I really don't want to stuff this up.' He dropped his head into his hands. 'Look, I'm sorry. I..'

Greg stopped; he ran his hands over his head and looked up at her. Those eyes. Molly felt her knees go weak as he stared at her. She had to tell him; he was holding back because he thought she wasn't sure about how she felt. She was sure.

'You won't stuff it up by kissing me.' Her heart was beating so fast she was positive he could hear it.

'Molly?'

Deep breath. Unfolding herself, she stood up, moving the few steps between the armchair and the sofa. Sitting next to him, filling the rest of the small space, she felt his leg warm against hers, his arm reaching across the back of the sofa. His fingertips brushed against her neck, making her shiver. Taking his hand, she brought his palm to her lips, kissing it softly.

'Molly.' His voice, low and hoarse in her ear as he bent his head down, gave her goose bumps. He sounded so sexy when he whispered.

Slipping his hand out of hers and slowly along her cheek, he let his fingers tangle in her hair. Staring into his gorgeous brown eyes, Molly knew what she wanted. Reaching up, she placed her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him closer. And then his lips were back on hers; her arms around his neck. Everything else pretty much disappeared as Molly felt his kiss become firm and confident, his arms pulling her against him.

'Well,' Greg let out a long breath when they finally stopped, 'wow. That was...' And he couldn't stop grinning.

'It was.' She pulled him back for another kiss, pressing herself against him.

'Molly, you are one very sexy woman, you know that.' His arms still around her waist, he slipped his hands under her jumper, gently touching her skin. 'I could stay here all night kissing you.'

Closing her eyes, Molly rested her head on his shoulder, savouring the feel of his fingertips on her bare skin. Such a simple thing, but his touch made her shiver. Her fingers found their way up to his undone shirt buttons. He pressed his hand harder against her as she touched his chest.

'However,' he whispered, his breath brushing her cheek, 'it's late. And I should go.'

Nodding, she reluctantly took her arms from around his neck. As he let her go, he slipped his hand into hers, his face turning serious as he brought their hands up to his chest.

'You are sure about this, Molly?'

'Yes. I am. All I can think right now is that I just want to keep kissing you.'

And the look in his eyes made her heart melt. 'Molly Hooper, I'm so mad about you and I really do have to go.'

Laughing, she kissed his hand slowly and let go, standing up from the sofa. Moving around the piles of books on the floor, she stepped into her tiny hallway, reaching up to take his coat from the hook. And then she felt his arm slip around her waist, goose bumps running up her back again as he spoke into her ear.

'So, does this mean.. you and me?'

Molly turned, touching his lips. 'I think it does.'

He smiled, all the tiredness and hesitation gone from his gorgeous eyes. 'Wonderful. Now, I really should go.'

'So you said.'

Winking, Greg let his arm fall from her waist. 'Cheers,' he said as he took his coat from her, shrugging himself into it. 'See you tomorrow?'

Nodding, Molly turned his collar down. 'Yep.'

Moving closer for one last slow kiss, Greg paused, his eyes holding hers. She felt her heart stop; he was so handsome when he looked at her like that.

'Goodnight, Molly.'

'Goodnight.'

And reluctantly, he stepped out onto the landing and started down the stairs, waving before disappearing from view. Shutting the door, she leaned her back against it, concentrating on remembering to breathe. They'd kissed. Thirty five years old and Molly just wanted to jump up and down on the spot, and shout at the top of her lungs. They'd kissed! Proper, full-on kissing.

Oh, why had she taken so long to realise? There he'd been, in her lab, in her life, waiting. She was in love with him. Molly knew she was; she wanted him. She wanted to be able to turn and see him, know that he was there, looking at her with those eyes, making her catch her breath.

The thing was, did she tell him? Should she tell Greg she loved him? And when?


	5. Umbrella in the Rain

**This chapter took a little while to form in my mind. I knew what I wanted to happen between Greg and Molly, getting my thoughts down on paper took a bit longer! Just to let you know that I've revised the previous chapter (Comfy Chairs) so do pop back have a read before this one if you like. Enjoy and thank you for reading!**

* * *

_One last body then inquiry team can have the reports. I miss you. M_

Leaning his head back against his chair, Greg closed his eyes. His mind filled with Molly – her touch, her lips, her arms around him.

_I miss you. Nearly there then? G_

The office was quiet; most of his team had finished. Even Sally had gone home, the Tower Bridge body case report complete and waiting in his tray.

_Should be stood down by tomorrow afternoon. Are you done for today? M_

Eyeing the folder his DS had plonked in the tray on her way out, he knew it could wait until tomorrow; he was already over an hour past the end of shift. He figured he could be at Barts in half an hour.

_Yep. G_

_Can you stop by on your way home? There's something I need. M x_

* * *

Emerging from the door, wrapped in her black coat, Molly looked up and down the street, searching in the darkness and rain. His heart stopped at the sight of her. Six days since they'd seen each other; six days since they'd kissed, since Molly had made him dinner and told him how she felt. Greg pushed himself off his car, standing under the umbrella he'd fished out of the back.

She saw him. Even from the other side of the street he saw her smile and felt his breath catch. Looking both ways, Molly dashed across the road, ducking her head against the rain.

And then she was under the umbrella, her lips pressed urgently against his, her arms wrapped around his neck. Heart beating fast, Greg returned her hungry kiss with his own. She felt warm and soft as he gripped her waist with his free arm, keeping the umbrella held over them as the rain beat down on it.

God, he had missed her. The memory of her body against his as they'd kissed on her sofa, the feel of her skin under his hands; those thoughts had kept him going over the last few days knowing they wouldn't see each other. And now to have her finally there in his arms, everything felt right.

As they carried on kissing, Molly's hands reached up, fingers running through his hair. Greg moved his arm inside her coat, his hand seeking out her bare skin beneath her shirt. Warm to his touch, he felt her press tighter against him, letting out a quiet moan as his hand rubbed her back. Not expecting such a sexy response, he felt his desire for her start to kick in, aroused by her lips on his, her skin under his fingers. Probably a good idea to keep that under control. He broke from their kiss, his hand still held against the bare skin under her shirt. He didn't care who saw them kissing madly in the street outside Barts, but he knew that kissing was all they'd be doing that night.

'...hello you.' His breath caught, his greeting came out as a low whisper.

'Hi.' Molly looked up at him, her eyes wide and bright.

She was beautiful. Greg tried to calm his breathing as he looked into her eyes, withdrawing his hand from under her clothes.

'Thank you.' Placing a kiss on his cheek, Molly rested her head against his shoulder. 'I needed that.'

And Greg felt his heart turn over. She'd kissed him; an intense, passionate kiss. The intelligent, tough, beautiful woman with her arms wrapped tight around him wanted him. And he wanted her.

* * *

'Have you been sleeping here?'

Brushing back the escaping strands of hair, he placed a slow kiss on her forehead. She looked tired, dark circles forming under her eyes.

'We need to. Don't worry, they have proper beds here for kipping on.' Molly gently ran her hand over his cheek. 'It's nearly over. Martin thinks we should be stood down tomorrow. There hasn't been any more bodies from the train in the last 48 hours.'

Five days ago, Molly's text had reached him minutes after the news of the crash just outside Liverpool Street station.

_Being called in as response team. Any bodies will come to Barts. Will have to cancel tomorrow night. M x_

_Take care. Text me if you need anything. G_

There hadn't been much else he could say. If the crash turned out to be fatal, and the first reports of the severity of it had been bad, then Greg'd known that Molly and her team would be working non-stop. Emergencies were a given part of their jobs and their jobs took over their lives sometimes. If he was honest, he knew that his ex-wife had never been happy about it; emergency call outs, night shifts, long hours filing the paperwork. Arguments about it had been quite regular.

She'd blamed her affairs on him, on him not being there. That'd hurt; he'd been faithful and had been willing to try and reconcile when she'd come back. So, whatever the rights and wrongs of it, Greg had kept the thought of Molly at the front of his mind as the divorce went on. He let himself have the small hope that out of the mess of his marriage, he might find happiness with Molly.

'You look shattered.' Gently stroking her cheek, he wanted to just hug her to him and not let go. She looked like she needed a good meal and a long sleep. His heart ached at the tiredness in her face. 'Five days straight on autopsies and paperwork.'

'The whole team's been working on them,' she said, putting her arms around his waist.

'With my gorgeous girlfriend leading them...'

Greg felt her pull back from him. Was he assuming too much? Was he rushing her?

'What's wrong, Molly?'

'Girlfriend...'

Starting at the corners of her lips, her smile spread, and he was sure he could see the blush come into her cheeks. He loved it when she blushed, it was such a turn-on. He let his hand move round to rest on the back of her neck. Lightly brushing his fingers against it, he felt her shiver at his touch.

'I mean ...if you want to be my smart, dedicated, sexy girlfriend.'

And that sounded good. More than good, it sounded wonderful. During that cab ride home, after the horrible Christmas party, he'd only allowed himself a tiny sliver of possibility that anything could come of how he felt. Four years ago, he'd sat in that cab and started to fall in love in with her as she'd cried, apologised, smiled and vented her anger over Sherlock. Four years later, he was standing outside Barts with Molly Hooper, having kissed her as they sheltered under his umbrella from the persistent rain.

'Well, I don't know about sexy.' She looked away, her blush deepening. 'But um, yes, I would want that.'

'You are sexy.' He lowered his voice, his lips close to her ear. Greg felt his skin tickle at her closeness. 'I mean all that kissing and blushing and touching... very sexy.'

Laughing softly, Molly placed her hands on his chest. 'I'll have to take your word for that.'

Covering her hand with his, he smiled at her. 'Trust me, it's definitely true.'

Clearing her throat, she looked back at him, trying to compose a serious face.

'Anyway, yes, sorry, enough of that.' He planted another kiss on her forehead. Somehow he didn't think he'd ever get tired of doing that. 'So, you're being relieved tomorrow?'

Molly nodded, her fingers absently playing with his shirt buttons. 'Final autopsy, then the new team should be here in the afternoon and we get a few days off.'

'Well, if you are relieved, would you like to come round for dinner? I mean, nothing fancy, just food and a comfy sofa at mine.'

'Oh Greg, that would be lovely. Thank you!' She smiled, her face lighting up at the thought of it. 'I don't think I'd be up to making myself proper food.'

'Listen, would you...' Nervous, he stopped. Ask her. Yes, they'd kissed but he didn't want to rush it. If she said no then that was ok. '...would you stay? You know, spend the weekend with me? Only if you want to. I'm not working and I've no plans...'

Molly's hands went still, her fingertips having slipped under his shirt. He felt her touch warm against his chest, his heart beating a little faster. Looking at him, her face turned serious. Had he asked too soon? He wasn't expecting sex. Had he made that obvious?

'Oh, Molly, I don't mean... sorry …look, I've no expectations. Honest. Just a couple of days for you to unwind. You've had a bad week,'

'And I'm sure you have, too.'

Shaking his head, he stroked her cheek. 'I haven't had to autopsy fourteen bodies from a train crash. Let me look after you for a couple of days.'

They stood under the umbrella, the rain still coming down, drumming against the fabric over them. Greg watched Molly as she considered his offer, the long seconds drawing out between them. She didn't seem to want to run in the other direction – her fingers were still resting on his chest. But then he wasn't entirely sure what her silence meant.

He wanted to help, to help her rest and recover after all she'd had to do those past few days. And it was also a bit of selfishness on his part; he wanted to be near her, to know she was there. Greg knew he had to take up whatever chances he got to be with her; their lives, their jobs were not ordinary and any relationship they'd have was going to be shaped around it.

'Stay over at yours, for the weekend?' She finally spoke, looking at her hands, her fingers inside his shirt, as if she'd suddenly remembered they were there.

'Only if you want to, of course. Molly, there's no pressure. It'd just be nice to have you there. And you wouldn't have to think about doing anything. Just unwind.'

Again, she was silent, her hands pressed over his heart. If she did say no, then he was fine with that; there would be time enough for taking it further. Hearing her intake of breath, he steeled himself for her 'no'.

'I'd like that.'

His heart jumped. She was saying 'yes'? Seriously? Breaking out into a grin, he squeezed her hands.

'Yes?'

And then she was grinning, pulling her hands from his and wrapping her arms back around his neck.

'Yes,' she whispered in his ear, her breath tickling his cheek 'I'd love to be fussed over by you.'

'Great. Thank you, Molly.' Placing a gentle kiss on her lips, he rested his hand on her waist. 'I'll square it to knock off early tomorrow. Text me when you're ready?'

'I will. I probably ought to be getting back in, I told Joe ten minutes.' Bringing her watch close to her face, she squinted in the dark at it. 'Hmm, can't see a thing. I better go.'

Reaching up, she kissed him, lingering over his lips. 'Thank you.'

Greg let his hand slip from her waist as she stepped back. Giving each other one last look, Molly turned and headed back across the road. Watching her as she went back in the main entrance, disappearing behind the sliding doors, he ran his hand over his chest where her fingers had been. She wanted to, Molly actually wanted to spend her days off with him, at his place. And he knew she was trusting him, trusting him that they would take it at her pace. The tiny possibility of hope he'd felt during that Christmas cab ride pulled at his heart. It really was happening.

Now, the thing was, what on earth was he going to cook for dinner?


	6. Tea in Bed

**And now for the final chapter. It's a bit longer than the others - I wanted to include both Molly's and Greg's POV. Thank you for reading and reviewing. Hope you've enjoyed it as much I've enjoyed writing it! x**

**PS. I've changed the rating to M - just to be on the safe side! Sex alluded to and talked about, but nothing graphic.**

* * *

**Molly**

_Molly, I need something. SH_

_Not a chance. Ask me Tuesday. M_

_You've got the weekend off. I tried your flat, it's empty. Where are you? SH_

_Good night Sherlock. M_

_Are you at Lestrade's? You know I have keys. SH_

_See you next week. M. ps. I changed the locks. GL_

_Sorry. SH_

* * *

Molly snuggled closer into him. Her hand reached up to his shirt buttons, undoing another one. With her fingers drawing small circles on his chest, she felt it rising and falling gently under her hand. Greg pulled his arm tighter around her shoulder. Curling her toes, she rubbed her foot against his leg, propped up on the coffee table, feeling his trouser leg ruckering up. Closing her eyes - they were feeling rather heavy - she could feel his body warm against her, his fingers gently stroking the top of her arm. This was bliss. Her hand stilled, flat against his chest as her mind slowed down. A proper dinner and several rather intense kisses and she was drifting off.

'You ok there?' His voice was in her ear, soft and sexy.

And there came the goose bumps down her back. Molly nodded against his chest, her hand sliding down across his stomach, slipping around his waist. Eyelids drooping, she tilted her head up to look at him. Such a handsome smile. And oh, those brown eyes.

'I'm very ok.'

'Good.' His lips were on her forehead, and she felt her heart tugging as he kissed her, his fingers making her shiver as they brushed against her shoulder.

'This is nice.'

'So are you, Molly.'

His words reaching into her mind, she opened her eyes. He said, and did, the loveliest things. Dinner had been delicious; he could definitely cook. She'd told him that already, hadn't she? Sausages and mash, the perfect comfort food.

'Am I?'

'Yes.'

'Thank you.' she murmured into his shirt.

Soothing the aches of the past five days, the up and down movement of his chest under her cheek felt good. Molly let her eyes close again. Just for a few minutes, she told herself somewhere in the back of her mind. A few minutes and she'd sit up and kiss him again.

* * *

What time was it?

Forcing open her heavy eyelids, Molly blinked rapidly. She was tucked into a body; a man's body. Her hand was lying against his stomach. Fingers were stroking her hair; long, smooth strokes. And this wasn't her sofa, hers was green and this one was brown. She turned her head to look up past his chest.

'Hey sleepy head.'

Oh that rough, low, sexy voice. Goose bumps tickled along her back. Her heart stopped, started, skipped over several beats. She was curled up against Greg Lestrade's body, her legs tucked under her.

'What time is it?'

Think, she told herself. Greg's sofa. Kissing. Coffee and posh chocolates. Dinner. Her mind cleared a little as the evening's events came back to her. Picking her up from Barts, they'd stopped at hers to get a few things and then drove over to his house. He'd gotten her a mug of tea and told her to make herself at home.

Feeling him move his arm, taking his hand off her head to check his watch, she got her eyelids to stay open.

'Ten past one.'

'Oh, Greg! I'm so sorry.' Feeling mortified, she untangled her legs from under her. She'd fallen asleep against him. 'I didn't mean to nod off, you must be so uncomfortable.'

Struggling to pull herself upright, she drew her hand across him as his hand slid down her back. She shivered, catching her breath as his gorgeous smile played across his mouth.

'No one I'd rather be pinned against a sofa with.'

Molly blushed, his words conjuring up a few sexy thoughts. If she hadn't felt so knackered, she knew she would've acted upon them. How could she not when he was there next to her, being so damn gorgeous. 'You should've woken me.'

'Not a chance. After the week you've had, you can fall asleep against me for as long as you need to.' His fingers played with her hair as it fell across his chest. 'And anyway, I liked it.'

Aware of how close her hand was resting on his leg, Molly shyly pulled away. Leaning back against the arm of the sofa, she could feel herself blushing again. He grinned; he knew what she was thinking.

Looking around her, she tried to refocus her eyes, taking in his front room. The dark blue curtains drawn across the window, matching armchair in the corner, the photo frames on the mantelpiece. Pictures of his parents, his brother, friends in the Met. And the one at the wedding - her, Greg, John, Mary, Sherlock, Mrs Hudson - where she'd felt his hand on her back, resting there gently as they stood together. The memories were bittersweet; she'd enjoyed it but knew that it was Greg's company and touch she'd enjoyed, not Tom's.

Greg had found her looking at the photo as he'd brought in her mug of tea. 'Don't beat yourself up over it, Molly,' he'd said, touching her cheek.

'I still feel bad about it. I mean, I know I did the right thing.' She'd put the photo back and taken the mug from him. 'And it means you and me...'

'It does. You and me.' And then Greg had kissed her; long and slow, his hands on her cheeks.

Too much thinking, her head protested. Putting a hand to her forehead, Molly squeezed her eyes shut. She was tired, shattered. It'd been a while since she'd done an emergency response. They were always tough; the train crash had been no exception. And the bodies; she could see each one of them in her mind. The mother and young daughter, the elderly couple, the silver haired suited man. Oh.

Molly snapped her eyes open. Greg. His shirt, creased from where she'd laid against him, had come untucked from his trousers; his shoes rested against the coffee table, kicked off as they'd sat down with their coffees. He'd slung his jacket over the banister by the front door the moment they'd arrived at his house. Suddenly she felt herself blinking back tears.

'Hey.' And he was leaning forward, hands holding her cheeks, his thumb rubbing away the tear that she felt fall. 'Oh, Molly, love. It's ok.'

And it was ok. It'd just been the man's suit – crumpled, dirty, bloodstained – and his hair that'd caught her off guard.

'Sorry... sorry' She covered his hands with hers.

'Don't be. It happens.' He kissed her and pulled back. 'Did you want to talk about it?'

Sleep. Molly shook her head; she needed sleep. 'In the morning? Right now, I think I'd like to go to bed...'

And she realised how that sounded. 'Oh.. I mean, just to sleep. I didn't... not that I don't want to.. oh, I'm sorry, Greg.'

Her voice trailed off. Her body was shattered and her mind was following; she felt stupid, babbling away.

'It's ok. I know what you meant.'

A hug, then he pushed himself up off the sofa. Molly looked up at him; tilting his head – she loved when he did that – he offered her his hand. He was such a gentleman.

'I made up the bed in the other bedroom for you. You need a good night's sleep so I figured it'd probably be best place for that.'

A real, gorgeous gentleman.

'Thank you.' Letting him help her up, she squeezed his hand.

As she followed him back out to the hallway, she found she wasn't too shattered to notice his bottom as he bent over to to pick up her overnight bag from by the stairs. Trousers clinging to him, it was a lovely bottom. She smiled as thoughts of Greg naked, in bed, found their way into her head.

'Molly?'

'Huh?' She looked up into his face, quickly moving her eyes away from his bottom. Caught out, she blushed. 'Sorry. I, um..'

And he knew. Grinning, he winked and started up the stairs. Molly ducked her head and followed. Mortifying. Though why should she be embarrassed looking at him? He was rather handsome all over. Reaching the landing where he was waiting, she willed the blush to go away.

'Here you are,'

Pushing the door open, Greg stepped into the bedroom, placing her bag on the neatly made bed. She was so glad to see a proper bed after five days of sleeping at the hospital. It looked so enticing – soft pillows, big comfy duvet. Her body was already unwinding and relaxing at the thought.

'Thank you.' She turned and placed a kiss on his cheek. 'It's so lovely of you to do all this for me. Really.'

'Molly...' and his arms were around her waist, his lips coming down to hers, '...whatever you need, it's no problem. And yes, that sounds a bit corny I know, but I mean it.'

Head against his chest, she felt her eyelids drooping, her mind fuzzing over. 'Not that I don't want to sleep in your bed, Greg. I really do.. I just need..'

'Ok, you sound way too tired to be still upright. Come on.' His arms disappeared from around her. She missed them. Feeling herself gently being settled onto the bed, she opened her eyes. Her bag? She found it right next to her. Dragging it onto her lap, fumbling with the zip. Pyjamas. They were in there somewhere, she knew it.

'I'll leave you to it.' Another kiss on her forehead. 'Goodnight Molly.'

'Goodnight, Greg. Thank you.'

Her head really wanted those pillows. Ah, her pyjamas. Dropping her bag to the floor, Molly changed, slowly. Soon she felt the pillows under her head. And then she closed her eyes at the wonderful feeling of the duvet over her.

* * *

**Greg**

Normally he just slept in boxer shorts, but probably best to put his dressing gown on. Tying it around him, Greg stretched and yawned, wandering out into the hallway. He hesitated at her door. It was gone 9, would she be awake? She'd been half asleep as he'd left her fumbling to find her pyjamas last night. His tough, dedicated pathologist looking so vulnerable as she tried to stay awake long enough; he'd felt his heart tug as he kissed her goodnight.

Gently tapping on the door. 'Molly?'

Nothing. Turning the handle, he opened it slightly. There she was. Lying on her side, her back to him, she was stretched out along the bed. He could hear her gentle breathing, her shoulders, bare under the thin straps of her top, moving up and down faintly. Hair spread loose out over the pillow and duvet.

He was caught by the sight of her. For a few minutes he simply watched her side rising and falling as she slept. She was beautiful.

The crumpled heap of trousers and shirt on the floor caught his eye, her overnight bag tumbled over, its contents falling out. Greg smiled; his beautiful, messy sleepy girlfriend.

* * *

Quiet gentle footsteps sounded above him. She was awake. Greg put down his mug of coffee, plonking the novel (very dull, no idea why he was trying to finish it) next to it on the kitchen table. Pouring the just boiled water into two fresh mugs, he dumped the teabags and picked the mugs up.

Climbing the stairs, he could hear the curtains swooshing back. As he reached her door, still slightly ajar from when he'd left her to sleep on, there was the sound of the window opening.

'Molly?'

Standing outside the door, he tapped it with his foot, causing it to open a little more.

'Greg. Come in.'

He pushed the door open further with his shoulder, trying not to spill the mugs. 'Morning sleepy head. Tea?' And he caught his breath as he looked up at her. Wow.

Standing by the window, across the other side of the bed, Molly turned as he came in. Her strappy top and pyjama trousers all rumpled, hair all mussed up, she looked rather sexy.

'Oh, you lovely man! Yes, please, I'd love some. Sorry..' Molly laughed softly. 'Tea, I mean.'

Her eyes lingered on him, leaning against the window sill as he moved around the bed to her. If she'd let him, Greg would've quite happily taken her to bed right then. Stopping in front of her, their eyes still on each other, he handed her one of the mugs.

'Thank you.' Her voice came out soft and quiet, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

'So,' he said, gripping his mug, 'how you feeling?'

'Better.' Settling herself back on the bed, crossing her legs in front of her, she smiled up at him as she patted the bed for him to join her. 'Proper food and a proper sleep works wonders.'

Lowering himself down onto the edge of the bed, Greg held his mug in his lap. Control it. Sat on a bed with a very gorgeous looking Molly, he found himself holding his breath, willing his body to calm down. Her eyes were watching him over the top of her mug as she took a sip. Just the one before she put her mug on the bedside table and reached for his. Taking it, she placed it next to hers. His heart was definitely beating faster as she turned back and took hold of the belt on his dressing gown.

Ok, this was happening.

'Greg, I wanted to say...' She paused, her hand resting on his knee, folding the end of the belt between her fingers.

Touching his hand to hers, so aware of his breathing, he slid it along her bare arm, soft beneath his. It must've been obvious to her how fast his heart was going.

'You've been so wonderful to me and I feel guilty about not realising how I felt and spending all that time with you and thinking we were just close friends..'

'We are friends, Molly, we're always going to be that.'

Which was true. If he couldn't have had this then he would've been very happy with her friendship.

'I know. I should've realised I was in love with you..' And with that, he felt his heart jump. In love with him? '..I mean at the wedding, you know, dancing there with you and what happened, I...' She stopped and looked away.

He placed his fingers under her chin; Molly's eyes meet his again.

'You love me?' It came out sounding a little incredulous.

But then, to be honest, that was how he felt. She nodded. Greg grinned and pulled her in to kiss her.

'Oh, Molly.' He kissed her again. And he could've gone on kissing her. 'You don't have to apologise, for anything. We're here, it's happened. I love you.'

'Good,' she said, smiling mischievously, her hands sliding along his legs, her eyes never leaving his. 'I was a bit worried that it might've just been me.'

'Cheek. You...'

But she didn't let him finish. Pulling him over and down across the bed next to her, she tangled her legs with his. Her kiss was slow and intense, and Greg wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her to him. Every part of his body was responding to the feel of her, to her touch. Molly Hooper was in his arms, kissing him as they lay together in bed. He couldn't stop himself from grinning. His hand slipped under her top, stopping at her stomach. Wait. He looked into her eyes.

'You're sure?'

'Yes.' She kissed him, lingering on his lips. 'I want to.' Her smiled turned cheeky. 'Though, it might be a bit difficult with this on.'

And the belt of his dressing gown came undone, her hands upon his chest, her soft lips following. Yep, it was definitely happening. Greg figured that the morning might just become his favourite part of the day.


End file.
